


Given as a Gift

by SunflowerSupreme



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BDSM, Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, misuse of instruments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Maeglin and Glorfindel invite someone else to join them in their games.
Relationships: Ecthelion of the Fountain/Glorfindel, Ecthelion of the Fountain/Glorfindel/Maeglin, Ecthelion of the Fountain/Maeglin | Lómion, Glorfindel/Maeglin | Lómion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

He already knew what he’d agree to, long before the start of the scene, but when the door opened and two sets of footsteps entered, the shiver that ran through him wasn’t entirely faked.

They had planned it all out at breakfast, although Maeglin - per his own request - knew only the barest details of the plan. “My lord?” he called, pretending not to know what was coming.

“There he is,” Glorfindel said. “I told you he’s ravishing.”

He felt the bed dip, and an unfamiliar hand rested on his hip. “I see you spared no effort on his appearance.” Ever a master of his voice, Ecthelion’s tone sent a shiver down Maeglin’s spine.

Before going to fetch the minstrel, Glorfindel had stripped Maeglin and tied him to the bed, leaving him wearing only a few bits of jewelry and a blindfold. He wasn’t in the usual room, high in the house with bright lights. Instead, he’d been taken down into the basement and left in a room he’d never seen before. He’d been led there with the blindfold already on, so he had no idea what to expect.

A hand dropped between his legs, gripping the base of the plug Glorfindel had carefully inserted in him. “And already prepared for us?” Ecthelion chuckled. “You spoil me.”

“Who-” Maeglin began, pretending to wiggle away.

“Silence,” Glorfindel said firmly. Then he leaned over, pressing his lips to Maeglin’s ear, whispering, “Ecthelion thinks he can make you cry or use a safe word. I bet him a rather pretty brooch that he couldn’t.”

“You aren’t supposed to tell him!” Ecthelion cried. Maeglin could only imagine him throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I never said that,” Glorfindel chuckled.

“I hate both of you,” Maeglin grumbled.

Ecthelion tutted, dropping back into his character. “A rather feisty thing, isn’t he?”

“It’s what I find most attractive about him.” Glorfindel’s hand on his shoulder was surprisingly gentle, a contrast to Ecthelion’s exploratory touches where he raked his nails over Maeglin’s flesh.

Maeglin tried to wriggle free. He had no idea what he must look like since he hadn’t seen the jewelry Glorfindel had put on him.

“My lord I-”

“Hush,” Glorfindel said. “I’ll be back soon.” The bed rose as Glorfindel stood, and he listened to his footsteps and then the sound of the door.

Maeglin was slightly thrown off. They hadn’t planned for this.

But his attention was pulled to Ecthelion once again, as the elven lord toyed with the clamps on his nipples. “Please,” Maeglin whined, pretending to pull back. “If you aid me-”

“Aid you in what?” Ecthelion ran his tongue up Maeglin’s chest, then nippled at the conjunction where his neck met his spine.

“Escape.” It was the only thing he could think of his character begging for.

“Oh no,” Ecthelion purred. “The only escape I would aid in would end with you in my dungeons.”

“I can’t see you having a dungeon,” Maeglin said dryly. “Unless it’s for people who sing off-key.”

“Shut up.”

The smith laughed, but Ecthelion cut it off jumping off the bed. “Let’s see how amusing you find this.”

Hot wax from a candle dripped onto his stomach. Maeglin hissed but remained quiet. Then he heard him step away. When he came back, Maeglin smelled something burning. It was more than a candle, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

“My lord-” he began.

“It’s only a little poker from the fire,” Ecthelion cooed. “I thought I might-”

“No,” Maeglin said firmly. His stomach twisted and his words turned to pleas, “Ecthelion, I am being serious, no! Please-” Visions of his past, of another dark-haired man advancing on him with a hot poker, swam through Maeglin’s head. Try as he might, he couldn’t convince himself that Ecthelion was not as cruel as Eol, and he let out another plea.

The poker clattered as Ecthelion tossed it onto the stone floor, his blindfold was pulled off, the minstrel leaning over him, his face twisted with concern.

“Maeglin I was not serious,” he soothed. “I only meant to mess with you, I would not have maimed you.” Dropping a kiss onto the smith’s forehead, he murmured, “I can stop this right now, say the word-”

“No,” Maeglin shook his head. “I want this, just not-”

“No more fire, not until we’ve discussed it,” Ecthelion agreed. He ruffled Maeglin’s hair. “We won’t count this against Glorfindel’s bet,” he promised. “Scaring you out of your mind was not the intention.”

Maeglin nodded.

“But I’m still going to win.”

“I won’t cry,” Maeglin hissed, pulling at his bonds and trying to look tough.

“Having fun are we?” Glorfindel’s voice interrupted him, and Ecthelion stiffened, dropping back into character. Maeglin pretended to cower.

“I only thought he might like to see himself,” Ecthelion said. He leaned back and gestured to the foot of the bed, where a full-length mirror stood.

Maeglin jumped slightly. He hadn’t expected that. Glorfindel had never messed with mirrors, so it must have been Ecthelion’s idea. It was strange to see himself, and he took a moment to examine his reflection.

His hair had been neatly braided - he’d done it himself, per Glorfindel’s wishes - and brushed back out of his face. The blindfold had only slightly mussed it. The necklace Glorfindel had dropped on his matched the shackles on his wrists and ankles, as well as a cord around his waist that attached to the clamps on his nipples. Between his legs, where he was just starting to become aroused, the base of the plug glittered with a glass stone.

Remembering his character, Maeglin let out a whimper, “My lord-”

Ecthelion tweaked one of the nipple clamps, sending a shiver down Maeglin’s spine. “Sensitive?” he asked. When Maeglin shook his head, he pulled harder, eliciting a groan.

“He’s very sensitive,” Glorfindel purred, dropping between Maeglin’s legs, “But he won’t admit it.”

He peeled the dried wax from Maeglin’s stomach, tossing it aside wordlessly. “Will he behave if we untie him?” Ecthelion asked. He threw one leg over Maeglin’s stomach, straddling him.

“He knows the consequences if he misbehaves,” Glorfindel said simply.

“My lords please,” Maeglin said, pulling at his binds. “I am but a simple blacksmith-”

“Not anymore, it seems,” Ecthelion remarked. “Tell me my friend, when was the last time you allowed him into his forge?”

Glorfindel bit Maeglin’s thigh, then said, “A few weeks.”

Maeglin pushed the story further, whimpering, “My lord has kept me in his closet since the first time.”

“Not true!” Glorfindel said, landing a swat on the bite mark. “I allowed you out at first, but you tried to hide from me, so I was forced to rescind your privilege.”

“If he wants to go outside so terribly, perhaps we should fuck him in the garden,” Ecthelion mused.

Glorfindel pretended to consider, even as Maeglin opened his mouth to protest. “We could lay him over the rosebush and plow into him,” Ecthelion suggested.

They had to be kidding, Maeglin told himself, his face flushing at the thought.

“Perhaps another time,” Glorfindel said.

In unison, as though they’d planned it, Ecthelion released Maeglin’s wrists and Glorfindel released his ankles. The minstrel swung off his chest, then pulled Maeglin so that his face was pressed into the minstrel’s clothed crotch. He rubbed himself against Maeglin’s face, holding him by the back of his head. “Does he bite?” he asked Glorfindel.

“Not anymore,” Glorfindel replied.

“Excellent. I shall make use of his mouth while you use his ass.”

Maeglin put up only a token struggle as Ecthelion lowered his pants, pressing his cock to the smith’s lips. But when Glorfindel pulled out the plug he gasped, and Ecthelion used that to push into his mouth.

He didn’t know what to focus on as they both used him relentlessly. He was sideways across the bed, his head on one side, ass hanging off the other. They were both pulling and pushing him at their own pace, as though playing tug-of-war with his body.

But even still, he could feel his own arousal growing.

All too soon it was over, Glorfindel slammed into Maeglin’s hips one last time before climaxing, pumping him full of seed, and Ecthelion pulled out, spilling over his face.

But one look at the minstrel’s face told him they weren’t done with him.

Once he’d caught his breath, Glorfindel asked, “Did you find him enjoyable?”

Ecthelion considered, “I suppose,” he said hesitantly.

“You suppose?” Glorfindel asked. “If he disappointed you in any way-”

“Please!” Maeglin whined, but they ignored him.

“I still wish to see him weep.” The minstrel ran his hand through Maeglin’s messy hair, then smacked him across the face.

Surprised, Maeglin let out a yelp. “That’s better,” Ecthelion said. He pulled Maeglin off the bed, then forced him to turn around and kneel on it, ass in the air, his face pressed into the sheets.

“Does he react best to a paddle or a whip?” he asked, rubbing his hand over Maeglin’s ass.

“Please!”

“Alright,” Ecthelion said. “I can manage both if you insist.”

Maeglin tried to wriggle off the bed, but Glorfindel caught him, pulling him back. He managed to throw his weight, causing them both to land in a heap on the ground.

“Brat,” Glorfindel growled.

Maeglin laughed.

Glorfindel sat up, dragging Maeglin with him and twisting his arms behind his back in one smooth motion. Ecthelion was perched on the edge of the bed, watching curiously.

Clearly he wanted a show.

Glorfindel pressed his face into Maeglin’s neck, biting at his skin. “Apologize,” he ordered. 

“It was an accident!” Maeglin whined. But Glorfindel wasn’t having it.

He pulled Maeglin to his feet, dragging him across the room to a hard backed chair. Maeglin knelt on the seat of the chair, then bent his waist over the back so that his ass was exposed.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Glorfindel asked.

“Oh no,” Ecthelion said. “I’m here to enjoy the show.”

Glorfindel walked away, then returned a moment later. Remembering his character, Maeglin called, “My lord I-”

“Silence.”

Maeglin clamped his mouth shut.

“Make him count,” Ecthelion suggested.

“As he says,” Glorfindel said. A heavy blow landed over his ass, from a thick leather paddle.

Maeglin wailed. “Count!” Glorfindel snapped.

“One!”

Glorfindel forced him to count every strike, up to ten, before he finally stopped. His backside stung, but at the same time, he was still fully erect, struggling to resist the urge to buck his hips.

“Mind the time,” Ecthelion called as Glorfindel rubbed his hand over Maeglin’s tender flesh.

“I’m aware,” Glorfindel promised. He pulled Maeglin to his feet and drug him across the room.

He was bent over the foot of the bed, and fingers pressed into his already stretched hole. After a moment more fingers slipped inside him, as though they were still stretching him. Then something pressed at his hole.

“What are you doing?” Maeglin asked, trying to turn around to see them.

“Look straight ahead,” Ecthelion ordered. The toy he’d been handling slid in deeper, carefully stretching Maeglin further. It got wider as it went down, and he was forced to relax, taking deep breaths to stop himself from clenching.

All the while, Glorfindel continued to pet his hip. It was out of character clearly, but as much as Maeglin enjoyed the rough play, he was grateful for the show of affection. It was a reminder he could stop it at any time.

“Enough?” Ecthelion asked although it was clear he was talking to Glorfindel.

“Should be,” the other agreed.

“Enough for what?” Maeglin asked.

Neither of them answered. Together they flipped him over, then shackled his ankles to the posts again. Since his ass was right at the edge of the bed, his legs had to do nearly a full split to accommodate. Once he was tied, Glorfindel wasted no time pressing inside him, he leaned over until his lips were against Maeglin’s ear, “You’re doing well,” he praised. “Remember not to cry.”Then he winked.

When he straightened up, Ecthelion moved in beside him. Before Maeglin could fully process what was happening, they were both inside of him, moving in and out in rhythm.

He gasped and threw back his head, letting out strangled cries.

“Breathe!” Glorfindel ordered. Remembering his character, he said, “If you stop breathing I’ll whip you.”

Maeglin could only nod.

His legs and ass already ached, and his muscles burned from the rough treatments. He squeezed his eyes shut as fingers began to play with his balls. It hurt, but _oh Valar_ , it was exactly what he wanted.

The promise to Glorfindel completely forgotten, he openly wept. Although he knew he should pretend to protest, he sobbed and pleaded, “More! More!”

He orgasmed first, which was to be expected since he hadn’t climaxed yet that day. Both Ecthelion and Glorfindel followed soon after, filling his ass with more hot seed.

They lay together in a sweaty pile for a few minutes, gasping and catching their breath. Then Glorfindel slowly pulled out of Maeglin, and helped Ecthelion to do the same.

“Damn it,” the minstrel hissed. “You’re bleeding.”

“Its fine,” Maeglin mumbled, waving his hand tiredly. “I’m fine. Honest.”

He heard Glorfindel take a deep breath, then cooly say, “It is to be expected. He should be grateful there’s no more.”

Ecthelion chuckled at the realization they were still playing, then said, “You’re right, of course. I don’t know why I panicked.” He landed a swat on Maeglin’s sore hole.

The smith whined, and fresh tears leaked out of his eyes. But he refused to ask them to stop. They untied his ankles and pulled him to his feet when he lost his footing, Glorfindel smacked his bottom.

“Please,” Maeglin whined. “I’ve been good.”

Glorfindel tossed him over his shoulder, his ass in the air, then used the position to press the plug back inside him.

“My lord!” Maeglin sobbed, he beat his fists weakly against Glorfindel’s back.

“Carry him to the mirror,” Ecthelion said.

They stood him on his feet in front of the mirror, holding him upright, and Ecthelion lifted his head, forcing him to look at himself. He looked terrible. His lips were swollen, his face and hair still stained with cum. More dripped from between his legs, but there it was tinged slightly pink. His face turned red with embarrassment.

“As amusing as this is,” Glorfindel said, rubbing Maeglin’s shoulders gently. “We need to get him cleaned up.”

“I want to sleep,” Maeglin mumbled. 

“We have a feast to attend in a few hours,” Ecthelion reminded him. 

“Feast?” Maeglin had entirely forgotten, and his blood ran cold. “No-”

Glorfindel seemed amused by his pleas, but scooped him up anyway. “Oh yes,” he said, carrying him out of the room. “You were the one who was so certain you would be fine tonight.”

“I didn’t know you both going to fuck me,” Maeglin complained. When they exited the room he was finally able to piece together where in the house they were, recognizing the walls that led to the hot springs in the basement. All the rest of the water in the house was fed from there, but there was a large pool that Glorfindel occasionally hosted parties in. Maeglin had been to a few, but everyone had kept pants on, even in the water, much to his disappointment.

At the moment it was empty, and Glorfindel locked the door behind them so they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“What did you expect?” Ecthelion asked with amusement.

Maeglin shrugged. Glorfindel sat him on his feet and carefully helped him to step into the warm water. He hissed in pain as the heat splashed over his sores.

He sat on a step and leaned back, closing his eyes. “No one would notice if I didn’t attend,” he said.

“It’s your uncle’s begetting day,” Ecthelion said, sounding horrified at the suggestion.

Maeglin shrugged. “Then missing the party to get fucked makes perfect sense.”

“You are vile,” the minstrel said, flicking water at his face.

Glorfindel jumped into the water beside him, tossing him a cloth. “Clean up,” he said.

“No,” Maeglin snapped.

Glorfindel shook his head, but Ecthelion gave him a wicked grin, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow. “Disobeying your lord?” he asked coldly.

Maeglin ignored them. If they wanted to keep playing, that was their problem. He wanted to sleep.

“It seems he is,” Glorfindel mused.

“Fuck you,” Maeglin snapped.

“I’d rather fuck you,” Ecthelion retorted.

Glorfindel pulled him deeper into the pool, tutting softly, “Foul-mouthed, isn’t he?” he asked, tilting his head.

Ecthelion nodded. “Ought to wash out his mouth.”

“How dare-” but as soon as he’d opened his mouth, a bar of soap was pressed inside it. Glorfindel pulled him to his chest, one hand over his mouth. “Keep that in your mouth or I’ll paddle you again,” he whispered into his ear.

Maeglin nodded, too tired to argue.

Glorfindel held him upright as Ecthelion bathed him, staying mindful of his sore spots. Once he was clean from the waist up, he was leaned over the edge of the pool. He let out a hiss as the cloth rubbed over his sore ass.

Glorfindel sat beside him, rubbing his back gently as Ecthelion wiggled the plug out of his hole, then continued wiping him down with the cloth. Maeglin moaned with each touch, too sore and tired to get any pleasure from the caresses. “You can spit the soap out,” Glorfindel said.

Maeglin did as he offered, pushing himself to his elbows and crawling to his knees. The golden lord pulled him into his arms, wiping at his face. “You’re still a mess,” he said with a sigh.

“Go to the party without me,” Maeglin grumbled.

“Not a chance.”

Once he was cleaned they helped him out of the bath, Ecthelion rubbed a cream into his sore thighs, but it did little to numb the ache as he pulled on clothes. “I hate you both,” he complained.

“This was your idea,” Glorfindel reminded him.

Ecthelion nodded. “As I recall, he was rather excited at the prospect of being in pain at the banquet.”

Maeglin stuck his tongue out.

Once they were all in order - Maeglin allowed Glorfindel to sort out his hair - they hurried out of the basement and climbed into a waiting carriage. Glorfindel swept Maeglin into his arms once the door was closed, letting him lean against him rather than sit on his ass.

Ecthelion held out his hand to Glorfindel. “Brooch. Gimme.”

“Thief,” Glorfindel grumbled, passing over the jeweled prize.

“You’re jealous I won,” Ecthelion retorted, pinning it to his brightly colored robes.

Glorfindel said nothing, rubbing Maeglin’s shoulders as the carriage swayed. “You only have to make a short appearance,” he said softly, “Then you should go home.”

“Or….” Ecthelion began.

“No more bets,” Glorfindel said.

But Maeglin was interested, turning to face the minstrel. “Or what?” he challenged.

He was grinning. “If you stay the whole evening, I’ll allow you to tie me up, next time.”

“If I don’t stay?” Maeglin asked.

“Don’t lie,” Glorfindel said with a chuckle. “You’d let us tie you up either way.”

Ecthelion raised an eyebrow. “Who said you would be involved?” he asked, his face a mask of calmness, even as Glorfindel spluttered indignantly. “I’ll pay a visit to the House of the Mole in a few days. Who gets tied up depends entirely on Maeglin.”

“I’m going to win,” Maeglin said confidently.

He jumped out of the carriage not far from the Palace, too aware of his reputation as a recluse to ruin it over Ecthelion and Glorfindel. From there, he walked by himself, arriving just as the dinner started.

It was, to say the least, an uncomfortable evening. He could barely sit during the banquet, only nibbling at the food enough to stop people from wondering. Thankfully, no one seemed to care.

The worst part of the evening, was when Idril danced by him, arm in arm with Ecthelion. The wave of jealously that twisted his stomach made him only more determined to last the night.

Glorfindel kept an eye on him, even if he didn’t approach. It was clear by his expression that he thought Maeglin should go home and rest, and he knew if the Golden Lord had his way, he’d been propped up in bed for the next week.

He wouldn’t mind being doted over, but he’d rather win Ecthelion.

Finally, as the dancing was winding down, Ecthelion trotted up to him. “Go home,” he said. “You win.” The party was hardly over, it would probably last well into the morning.

“What did Glorfindel offer you?”

“Nothing,” Ecthelion replied. “But you look horrid and I’m starting to feel a bit guilty.”

Maeglin had been leaned against the small patch of wall for several hours, and when he tried to straighten up, pain shot through his body. “Let me take you home,” Ecthelion began

“No.”

“Everyone is too drunk to notice,” the minstrel promised.

After a moment of consideration, Maeglin nodded. A carriage ride sounded much nicer than walking back to the House of the Mole. “Fine,” he grumbled, following Ecthelion out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Maeglin won the bet, Ecthelion has to give him his reward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t know what a penny whistle is, I suggest googling it before starting this chapter.
> 
> Better yet,  here’s a picture.

The story was simple.

Maeglin’s character wanted revenge for the abuse, and intended to take it out on poor Ecthelion. How’d he managed to overpower Ecthelion hadn’t been discussed, neither of them cared enough to come up with that plot.

It felt strange to be the one in control, as he stood over Ecthelion, bound and gagged on the floor of a disused storage room. He hadn’t wanted to use his own room, too afraid his careful order would be ruined.

Maeglin kicked him, and Ecthelion gave him an irritated look, snarling around the rope that he’d been gagged with. Kneeling beside him, he lifted Ecthelion’s head off the ground by his hair. “I asked you to help me,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Here’s what you get for refusing.”

Ecthelion pretended to struggle as Maeglin pulled down his pants, but under his whines and grunts, Maeglin could hear his muffled giggles. He rolled his eyes, running his hands over the pale ass. He bit Ecthelion’s neck, growling into his ear, “I should gut you. But first, you should know how I feel.”

He pressed one finger against Ecthelion’s hole, slipping it in without oil, making the minstrel let out a keening whine. “Silence,” Maeglin snapped, giving him a light smack on the bottom.

It felt good to be the one in charge for once, the one who got to decide what to do. He stretched Ecthelion carefully, although, not as well as he probably should have. He didn’t doubt that the minstrel could manage.

Pushing himself to his feet, Maeglin walked around to stand in front of Ecthelion, crouching down until their faces nearly touched. “What did you ask, again? _Does he respond better to a paddle or a whip_?”

Judging by Ecthelion’s face, he hadn’t gotten the quote quite right, but the meaning was there. Maeglin stroked his partner’s dark hair. “I’d like to find out which works best on you, but all I’ve got is a belt.”

He tugged off his belt, then grabbed Ecthelion, dragging him to lean him over a pile of boxes. Once the minstrel was in position, Maeglin slapped the belt over him. He lurched but made no noise, remaining silent as the strikes rained down on him.

“It’s your turn to cry,” Maeglin said irritably. Ecthelion glanced over his shoulder and winked as though to say Maeglin wasn’t going to get what he wanted.

Frustrated, the smith flipped Ecthelion over, unbuttoning his shirt and baring his stomach. “Lay still,” he said and struck the belt over the minstrel’s front.

Ecthelion’s eyes widened, as though he hadn’t expected that, but he said nothing, remaining as silent as ever. Interested in the reaction he’d gotten, Maeglin struck him again. After several more strikes landed he stepped forward, sitting on Ecthelion’s lap and forcing the minstrel to use his sore stomach muscles to sit up. “Having fun?”

Ecthelion shook his head, his eyes glittering with amusement that betrayed his true feelings.

Maeglin shifted, dragging his nails over the reddened flesh. Ecthelion whined around his gag. He glanced around the room, wondering what he might be able to use for a weapon, then he grinned.

Ecthelion raised an eyebrow.

Maeglin grabbed him and drug him to one of the boxes, tossing him over it with his ass exposed again, then he dug through another box until he’d found what he wanted.

Splashing oil over the minstrel’s ass, he lined up the item and gently pressed it in.

Judging by Ecthelion’s yelp, he couldn’t figure out what the cold metal object was. He tried to turn around to see, but Maeglin forced him to look straight ahead again, holding his hair in his fist. “Don’t turn,” he ordered.

He grabbed the base of the whistle with his fingers, then pressed it further into Ecthelion’s hole. The instrument was old and worn, had never been as fine as any of Ecthelion’s instruments, but there was something still strangely satisfying about fucking the minstrel with a whistle.

He pulled the flute out after a moment, then struck it over his ass several times, electing a slight grunt. Then he dangled the flute in front of Ecthelion’s face. “Shall I make you play it?” he asked.

The look he received clearly communicated that Ecthelion thought he was completely insane.

Maeglin only grinned.

He struck the whistle over Ecthelion’s ass several more times, then pressed his finger into his hole, checking to see how stretched he was. He eased him open a bit more, then, after getting a discreet nod from the minstrel, pressed inside him.

Ecthelion pretended to sob into his gag as Maeglin fucked him, thrashing beneath him as though trying to escape. But Maeglin kept a firm grip on him, keeping his hips still.

“If you’re good, I may let you climax before I fuck you with my knife,” he growled into the minstrel’s ear.

Maeglin pulled out, then moved to rub himself over Ecthelion’s face. Although he was tempted to demand oral sex, he didn’t want to remove the gag, and instead contented himself with spreading precum over him.

But Ecthelion seemed stubbornly determined not to weep.

Maeglin tried whipping him with his belt again, then the whistle, then fucked him again without adding more oil.

But Ecthelion only seemed to be enjoying the abuse.

He glared at him. “Stubborn ass,” Maeglin complained.

The minstrel shrugged.

Maeglin knew he couldn’t keep going much longer, so he lined up carefully with Ecthelion’s hole, pressing inside him, then took his lover’s cock in his hand.

He wrung a climax out of Ecthelion, the minstrel tossing his head back and screaming around his gag. Then Maeglin climaxed and went limp, buried to the hilt in Ecthelion’s warm ass, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

The decision was made for him as he was suddenly lifted into the air by his neck, a familiar voice growling, “What is the meaning of this?”

Judging by the amused look on Ecthelion’s face, he’d known Glorfindel had been planning to interrupt them the entire time.

Maeglin didn’t know if he should kiss him or curse at him.


End file.
